


Robot

by centrumLumina (centreoftheselights)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dissociation, Gen, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-16
Updated: 2011-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centreoftheselights/pseuds/centrumLumina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Brainbent fic about Dave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Robot

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Brainbent](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/5996) by VastDerp. 



> Although this piece is labelled 'Homestuck', it was inspired by the Brainbent AU.

"Robots can do anything."

Bro had told him that once, a long time ago.

Dave had been on the Xbox, later than he had meant to be. He had lost track of time. When he heard Bro's voice outside the door, he had time to shut off the console, but the television remained on, flickering back to a news report about some tin can that had learned to walk.

Bro had stood in the doorway. Behind him was A Girlfriend. Dave did not bother remembering which one, or even if he had ever known her name. He knew the type – what did a name matter?

Dave wasn't meant to still be around when Bro brought a Girlfriend home.

But Bro just stood in the doorway and nodded once, slowly.

"Robots, hey? Robots can do anything… Now scram, kid."

Bro had been right. He always was, of course, but this time Dave knew for certain. Robots really could do anything.

Even live your life for you.

There were screens, and speakers, and a keyboard. Sometimes, he thought it was a computer game, but mostly he thought it was a robot, remote controlled. And there was a choice.

He could watch the screens, and turn up the speakers, and type commands for the robot to follow. Or…

He could turn on the autopilot, look away, and do something else instead.

He could scream here, if he wanted. Hit. Break.

(But even here, where no-one could possibly see him – even now, he was not allowed to cry.)

A part of Dave knew that it wasn't always like this, and when things seemed different his time here was fuzzy and indistinct, and everything the robot had done was washed away by a haze of static.

Sometimes, he was the robot. It was him.

But, right now, those times seemed less real than the faintest memory of a dream.

And if that was all this was, a dream within a dream, then –

Did any of it even matter?


End file.
